Worldly Connections
by Violet911
Summary: Madrigals, total mystery to everyone, even to the countries. No one knows about their true whereabouts since 1526. 'Til a certain Brit had a lovely talk with a man in black, who convinced him and others like him to lend a hand with a certain family game.
1. Family Fueds

**A/N: So, hello again. *closes a book dramatically* If you are wondering why am I in a library room in the middle of the night, sitting on a comfy and overly priced couch with a fireplace nearby burning wood, I'm here to tell you . . . this is a COLLABORATION CROSSOVER!**

***confetti suddenly slowly falls down from the ceiling in a very festive mood***

**Yes, this fan fiction you'll be reading is made from my idea in partnership with two girls (which I will call them by their preferred alias), Athena and T.G. Let's give them a round of applause . . . for they are not currently with me at the moment. But soon, my readers, they will appear on the chapters they will construct.**

**Now, *directs attention to a theatre that was behind the sliding book shelves* on with the story~!**

***camera moves closer to the screen until was abruptly stopped by a hand and its attention now directed to a tall, dark-looking yet very handsome boy wearing a butler suit***

**Psst, the characters shown in this story thankfully does not belong to my Mistress Katie, but they belong to their respective creators. Also, be warned their might be scenes not suitable for young audiences. Parental guidance is ad— *gets cut off by the sight of a glowering Violet911 and the camera continues to move forward, hearing some cuss words and the clang of a frying pan with a skull***

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Family Feuds<strong>

Five days before Grace Cahill died, the world had a meeting.

It was necessary for the coming dreadful events. Though . . . excluding the fights between the representatives of each country with their long-time rivals . . . the meeting was a complete success.

Maybe.

Arthur Kirkland's eye twitched. The twitch happened again. And again. And AGAIN! The British gentleman was about to crack like a mad man. He didn't know why he was so angry all of a sudden. In this situation, he should be glad. Happy. Jubilant.

Why? None of those bloody idiots were bothering him the entire time.

Strange the occurrence was to him but, ah, ignorance really was a bliss.

Yes, it should have made him exultant. However, there was this other issue that bugged him, even more than the people he knew at this very room, that probably prevented him from enjoying the rest of the meeting.

It was one family. Namely, _the_ _Cahills._

Ludwig slammed his palms on the table, as he does in every World Conference, so hard it made the whole room vibrate and Arthur's tea to spill all over Francis Bonnefoy, which made him yelp in pain and run out of the room in embarrassment and anger directed towards his laughing companions, Antonio Carriedo and Gilbert Beilschmidt, and a very smug Brit.

After Francis' over reactive leave, the chaos that was concealed inside the soundproof walls was led to an absolute halt. The Italian Vargas brothers, Feliciano and Lovino, froze from trying to untangle their curls though no doubt they would've stopped anyway for they were in a verge of tears. Ivan Braginski was giving a stare attended with a disappointed smile and a dark aura at his pitiful seatmate, Wang Yao, for not agreeing to drink vodka with him. Im Yong Soo, a very annoying Korean, was in mid-poke war with Kiku Honda, a man who had no interest to play the game from the very start. Matthew Williams was carrying what seemed like a plush-doll polar bear and a paused irritated face that was directed to his twin brother, Alfred F. Jones, who was discussing with the Baltic Trio that Canadians needs to eat more burgers than, as Mr. Kirkland quotes, "boring and dull maple syrup-covered pancakes".

That was all Arthur could absorb before Ludwig gave a strangled cough, saying, "Arthur, if you would please continue."

"Oh, right," he mumbled, remembering that he was the first to speak, since they held the meeting in his country. Arthur straightened his tie as he rose from his seat. Noticing most of the bored looks shown from the representatives, he decided to make this meeting end as briefly as possible.

For safety purposes.

"My fellow countries," Arthur breathed, closing his eyes and tucking hands safely away behind his back. He felt a shiver run through his spine. When he opened his eyes, his mouth moved but no audible sound was heard.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY, IGGY?" shouted Alfred, earning a glare from his former guardian. That American git even tilted his head to show his sign of confusion. The Brit didn't know why it had to be announced this way, but from the consequence of keeping all his anger inside . . .

_No,_ he said firmly to himself, taking deep and slow breaths of air. _Calm down, Arthur._

"Did anyone hear what I had said?" Arthur asked, looking expectantly at the others. No one gave a reply. He lowered his head and coughed uncomfortably from embarrassment.

Someone snickered. ("Stupid British jerk.")

The Brit's eyes furiously narrowed. "If you think this meeting is a laughing matter, fine! Get out of here this very second. But if your country suddenly gets swarmed by unusual people that are destroying national landmarks and getting the authorities knackered just chasing about their whereabouts and motives, don't come to me and say sorry. For in the name and trust of our United Nations, the official hunt for the 39 Clues is approaching."

There were gasps. Everyone was stunned (in their own way) from what they heard, and thus, their very vivid imaginations pictured and reviewed their pasts. The pasts that they were involved with those dreaded clues and even more so dreaded family that caused most of the war in the world. Even Ivan let out a sad sigh, muttering something like Romanon and death. But the message he gave impacted more on Arthur himself.

That family was originated from Ireland, before and still currently under Arthur's power. Thankfully, nobody blamed him (with the exception of Francis).

(And himself.)

"How do you know, you British bastard?" Lovino cried out, destroying the silence that invaded Arthur's eardrums. His hair curl free from his brother's, courtesy of Ludwig (but Arthur certainly doubts that Lovino even said thanks to the German veteran). After Arthur calmed down, he let a small smile slip. Just one measly smile when he saw the pathetic and naïve Feliciano hug Ludwig as a token of gratitude for helping them, before he answered Lovino's question.

"I have obtained top secret information from the Madrigal stronghold," Arthur stated, making some countries statue albino white (the colour much to Gilbert's glee) from the mention of the secretive group.

For the past five hundred years, the Madrigals was a mystery, even to the countries. They tried to send out government officials, who were entrusted with most of the information about the Cahills, to investigate this group and figure out possible Madrigals from possible suspects. However, some come back with disasters and foul-play and others empty handed.

Sometimes, they hardly ever come back at all.

"Wait a minute, aru," Yao demanded, his figure standing in confrontation. "You actually stole from the Madrigal base and managed _NOT _to get captured, aru?" The others nodded in agreement, wondering the same. The gentleman sighed in remorse, pinching the bridge of his nose.

This was the moment he was insecure about ever since the day he encountered that mysterious crowd.

Arthur Kirkland let out a weak smile after a minute or two. And everyone, mostly Alfred and Francis (who had just returned from the lavatory to change his pants, in a very irritated manner), was caught off guard by the gesture.

Not by his small beam and regretful green eyes, but by the black figures that was reflected on them.

The countries turned and were surrounded by black-dressed men.

Arthur bent his head forward, acknowledging the dark-covered company and avoiding dirty looks from the distinct nations at the same time. With a knowing glance at Kiku, who understood the situation from the very beginning, he greeted the shadowed agents with a half-hearted hello accompanied by a smile of a long face, a wave of hand, and a sweat drop of anxiety.

And just from the ruffles and whispers passed around, the British man knew the others were preparing to attack. (Feliciano Vargas was given full immunity to this statement for he just took out his white flag and gripped it tightly. And it was clearly shown Ludwig was exasperated by this as he took out his pistol.)

One of them, a man with grey hair sticking out of his black fedora hat, stepped forward towards the direction of Alfred before anyone could make a bold move. The tension rose as the countries anticipated the worst from the most feared group in Cahill history . . . until the man took off his hat, revealing a friendly face with shinning blue eyes.

"We need your help, our beloved nations," Fiske Cahill entreated, kneeling to Alfred on one knee, quickly followed by the other agents of the Madrigal branch. "If you don't help,"—the man in black gulped inwardly, as he took notice the studying stares coming from the powerful crowd—"this will affect not only humans, but nations alike. If the power of the 39 Clues falls into the wrong hands, the possibility of the annihilation of influential places, their leaders and people, are extremely high. They will . . . _you _will probably cease to exist."

The old man looked up and they noticed tears in his eyes. "So I beg to all of you, _please_, help us."

Silence.

Then, humorously, Francis' eyes rolled back and he fainted right on the spot.

_Stress. It just gets to you, _Arthur thought half-sympathetically, half-entertained.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading the first chapter to this experimental tale.**


	2. At First Glance

**A/N: Hey, hey, peoples~! I'm just updating this story with T.G.'s fantastic 2****nd**** chapter. All the credit will go to her . . . and some will be scrapped off to me. Man, I have no self-respect for myself, even though I'm the one who started this.**

**Well, it's because I suck at languages. I'm suggesting my parents I take some classes on French, Japanese, Chinese, Italian, and add in some Spanish since I'm Spanish descent. But isn't that a lot for a 15-year-old? Oh, well, maybe in college, LOL.**

**Also, please wait up for my one-shot on this same crossover category set on "The King's Ransom" which I promise will be LEGEN—Anubis, get your cosplay on—DARY!**

**Disclaimer by Anubis from the Kane Chronicles (still wearing Sebastian Michaelis' suit) captured by me: Vi—*gets cutoff by a swift hit from a frying pan* I mean, Mistress does not own anything you've seen or heard in the media and the characters belong to their respective creators.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: At First Glance<strong>

Matthew Williams thought he had the strangest family in the world (considering it is the world). Until he actually saw with his own eyes what family they were up against.

It all started when they met the Madrigal agents during a World Conference.

Arthur brought them inside the meeting room and hid them in secret panels before the assembly began later that day. He further explained that the Madrigals were friendly, and nothing to be afraid of. Sure, they might dress in black and lurk about ominously, but they were peacemakers and didn't mean any harm.

Nobody believed it at first, of course, because some of the strong traits from a Cahill branch that mostly occupied their country rubbed off on them. But after a one-on-one solitary confinement with a nation and a Madrigal agent of that nationality, a stack of files shown with the support of Mr. Kirkland and Mr. Honda, and the very fact that Francis was still unconscious (it was a fake faint he took, but when Matthew and Arthur carried him up to sit on his chair, they accidentally bumped his head _hard _on the side of the table), everyone reluctantly consider the fact they were good.

Because of that answer, they were let out, allowed to go back to their own countries, slept like infants, and woke up the next day as double-agents for the Madrigals, based on what family branch mostly lived and influenced their area.

(This confused Alfred and Matthew, because many of the Cahills that lives in their land were in mixed varieties, so Alfred announced arrogantly, "Then me and Mattie will be fully Madrigal!" The American laughed whole-heartedly as Matthew face palmed in the background.)

And, they were immediately given a mission: all of the nations, or the available ones, at least, were allowed to infiltrate the vicinity of invited relatives in a burial ceremony and follow the "chosen ones" afterwards. The strange fifth branch didn't explain who the chosen ones were. They said they will be revealed after the will reading.

So, the new spies were sent out, from the lowest to the highest in significance.

Somehow, the Axis Powers were the last in line.

The former Allied Forces were cramped inside a black minivan, reflecting the day's bad weather. Alfred was driving, Matthew was on the passenger seat giving directions, and the rest of the Allies were quarreling at the back seat. Arthur was picking a fight on Francis in the middle of the van, claiming that the bloody French pervert was trying to steal his vital regions again, while Francis pointed out that the car was too cramped for that, so he couldn't really; maybe when they were outside? This caused Arthur to punch him. Yao and Ivan were sitting separately on window seats for safety purposes, which made Ivan "kolkolkolkolkol" all the way to Grace Cahill's funeral.

"It won't be long now," Matthew muttered, tracing his forefinger along the map of Massachusetts and trying to ignore the chilling sounds of the Russian's frustration in the background. "Just a few more miles and we'll reach the mansion."

Alfred replied with a blast of muffled sentences, something like, "already know that, this is my territory," but it was impossible to catch the rest. The Canadian didn't have to turn his head to know that his brother was eating his second Big Mac from McDonald's. He'd probably stained his suit, so it was a good thing they brought extra clothes, just in case.

After a big slurp from his large soda, Alfred said cheerfully, "Hey, Mattie. Doesn't this all remind you of something?"

Matthew looked up, an irritated look plastered on his face for calling him that childish nickname. Then he noticed that Alfred wore a smile that didn't reach Texas.

The map he held ruffled under his grip as his head turned 270˚ to look on the situation. England and France were (hypothetically) battling, Russia smiling darkly out of the window, China trying to cuddle his panda without being disturbed by the fighting pair, America feeling like the leader as he stuffed himself with fast food, and he, Canada, was being ignored by the others except for his twin. And they were going on an assigned task that may or may not have trials along the way.

"It feels like a war," he replied bluntly. But no response was given in turn because they drove downhill from the huge manor and arrived at its family grave yard.

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><p>The first people that they met in the crowd were the Axis Powers, rather one of them, though the meeting was much to their surprise.<p>

Alfred immediately spotted a dizzy Japanese man with a katana on his side and, just as quickly, he broke into a run until Kiku was tackled with immense force. Matthew and Yao winced. Francis and Arthur were fixing their outfits separately and did not notice what happened. All Ivan did was smile.

"Yo, Japan," Alfred said loudly, gripping the shoulders of his long-time friend to keep him from falling down. "How did you get here so fast? I thought you were behind us."

Kiku flinched and clapped his hands to his mouth, before answering in an edgy voice, "Germany was driving."

"Aah," Alfred said, nodding as if he understood. His eyes searched the crowd. "Where's him and Italy, anyway?"

Kiku shook his head. "I was the last to get out of the car, but I heard Italy say he was going to say hello to the vulture man, whom I believe is the agent with Mr. Cahill."

"So, how are we going to find them, eh?" Matthew asked, only to be heard by his first former guardian.

"Well, I suggest," Francis started as he trudged down to them, followed by Arthur, "we speak to those beautiful _mademoiselles_ by the rose hedges and ask for directions." Francis gave a flying kiss at the group of high-class-looking women, and they waved and giggled back in return. He glanced back at the Englishman. "Wouldn't you agree, _mon cher Angleterre_?"

With that, Arthur slapped him on the back of his head.

"Wanker," Arthur supplied at the French flirt before curtly nodding to Kiku. The Japanese man nodded back, looking very green.

Arthur looked back up the hill and his green eyes widened. Matthew followed his gaze and saw a black sleek limousine pull up from the curb. Out of the limo came two children, looking like perfect little angels. They wore matching mourning outfits that complemented their black hair and olive skin. Anyone would've mistaken them for supermodels.

But not to Arthur, from Matthew's point of view, at any rate.

"If you would all please excuse me," the British man said while he slowly walked in reverse, his face carefully calm, "I . . . need to retrieve something from the van. Do as you're told and mingle with your kind of people." And then, he left, running in a direction that very much did not look like he was going back to the van. In fact, he was running towards the limo.

Before anyone had time to worry about that, someone nearby yelled, "Hey!" The voice sounded angry and scared, and there was the noise of a scuffle.

"Somebody needs a hero," Alfred cried, hurrying towards the call. The Allies (minus England and plus Japan) followed him to the edge of the crowd where they saw twin girls holding a blonde boy upside down by his ankles and an auburn-haired girl watching them with a pale, nervous face.

"Let's fling him into the creek," one twin said, grinning.

The other pouted and said, "I wanna fling him into the bushes! We never do my ideas!"

Alfred, outraged, was going to stop them when Matthew blocked his brother's path and pointed at the girls' family, approaching with a pit bull.

A very huge and buff family with a very dangerous and barking pit bull, one might add. Matthew knew about Alfred's amazing strength, but with his relatively slim build, it would attract suspicion if he took on such a dangerous-looking group of people on his own. And suspicion was the last thing they needed right now. If anyone were to suspect that the group of odd-looking people with funny accents was not altogether human . . .

_The possible __annihilation . . . cease to exist . . ._

Matthew shook his head. No need to rush into things when they've just started.

Besides, Alfred might have super strength, but Matthew most certainly didn't. And those muscles looked pretty threatening.

Thankfully, Alfred, dense as he was, seemed to get the message; he just shrugged and turned back to watch the unfolding drama.

The one who Matthew assumed was older brother just laughed at the situation and the parents smiled like it was all good fun.

"How can that be fun?" Matthew muttered to himself, disgusted by the scene he was watching.

Carefully, the other nations backed up to the procession but near enough to watch and hear what they were saying.

"Now, girls," the evident leader and father of the family said. "We can't go flinging people at a funeral. This is a happy occasion."

"The nerve, aru," Yao whispered behind them. "Who would smile at a time like this?"

Instinctively, everyone turned to Ivan, who had been smiling the whole time. Yao paled and apparently decided not to speak again.

"Oooh, that's going to hurt tomorrow, dude," Alfred uttered, still watching the scene.

Kiku tapped Alfred's shoulder, the color coming back to his face. "May I ask what are you talking about?"

"The little dude was calling for that red-head — Amy, he called her — but she was completely tongue-tied and she still tried to say to drop him. When she didn't answer fast enough, he said like 'DROP ME' and they did, but it was on his head."

Matthew mentally grimaced. That had to hurt a lot, considering how high they lifted him. And he knew by experience with the trouble his brother had given him for a long, long time.

"I hope you losers took a good last look around the house," the first twin sneered. "You're not going to be invited back here anymore, now that the old witch is dead."

"Rawf!" their pit bull bayed.

"Come on, _mes amis_," Francis whispered, leading Matthew away from the sight by an arm over his shoulder. "We shouldn't be here to watch this."

"Wow," Alfred breathed, following Francis along with the others. "First time I've ever seen you this serious, France."

Francis turned to Alfred with a smirk, and Matthew knew what he was going to say next. "Wasn't it crystal clear to you about those two weak-looking _Américains_?"

"HEY!"

Matthew laughed at his brother's pouting expression but Francis was unmoved by it. His seriousness stayed, even with the coming figure of Arthur Kirkland. "Those two are the grandchildren of Grace Cahill. The Madrigals want them to win in the hunt, _non_?"

"They're expecting them to win the hunt, frog," Arthur needled rancorously, overhearing him from a distance. "Though from the looks of things," he added as he approached, "and the unlikely turn of events, they would need a bloody miracle to even cross this country, much less the world and other places."

Matthew and the others eyed the Englishman's attire as he halted before them. His clothes were wrinkled, torn in places, and covered with leaves and twigs. Matthew and Alfred barely stifled a laugh.

"What happened to you, _Igirisu_?" Kiku asked in astonishment, the only one not finding the Brit covered in vegetation amusing.

"_Oui!_ You look like a forest. It is growing out of your clothes, _mon cher_," Francis mockingly cried, walking around the battered man for a full inspection with a huge smirk. "Maybe we should find _petite Angleterre_ here some new clothes, _non~_?"

Matthew half-smiled at his former guardians, but sensing the tension between them, he stayed silent, like he always did.

Arthur snapped, letting all things naturally green on his physical body fall to the ground. "I'm fine, you French twit! I just . . . ran into some trouble, that's all."

"What kind of trouble?" Matthew raised an eyebrow at Arthur.

The Englishman scowled, but it wasn't necessarily directed at any one of them. "It's none of anyone's business except for me. It doesn't affect any of you lot."

"But if it is connected to the Cahills, and I am certain it does," Ludwig said brusquely, appearing behind Arthur from the crowd with Feliciano Vargas, "then it affects all of us."

Feliciano waved his arms in anguish behind the German veteran. "We saw what happened! Those people where so rough to England, ve~! When England got close to them, two big, rugged men came out of nowhere and carried England off to the forest where he was thrown into the bushes! Like a whoosh!" Feliciano made a zooming gesture to the trees with innocent expression that screamed of childishness.

"Got close to 'them'? Who's 'them'? Some sort of alien or something?" Alfred questioned.

Ludwig shook his head and pointed at the direction of Grace's coffin, where two youngsters from the limo were standing. They were looking at the casket, bearing some strange expressions. Matthew couldn't tell. Sympathy? Smugness? Pride? Envy? Curiosity? Fear? It was confusing from the distance.

Ivan gave a laugh. "Oh, so you were beaten up by some kids, _da_?"

"No, he was beaten up by the kids' lackeys, Russia, not the kids themselves, aru," Yao corrected, oblivious from Arthur's flushed poise.

"Oh, so he was beaten up by some rich kids, then."

Yao gave a nod of approval, trying not to get any eye contact from the Russian but failing as the tall man edged closer.

Arthur groaned and joined the procession without continuing the discussion, brushing off the remaining foliage from his condolence uniform. The Axis followed the nobleman, Feliciano begging Ludwig to let him stay away from the coffin and those "scary children" as they did.

"_C'est curieux_," Matthew mumbled quietly, but not silent enough to be overheard by his _ancien gardien_.

"_Qu'est-ce__ qui __est__curieux__, __mon__ petit_?" asked Francis, not caring that the American beside him couldn't understand a word they were saying.

"_Les enfants anglais, père_," Matthew replied. "_Italie a peur d'eux, n'est-ce pas_?"

"Ahh~! _Mais oui, mon chère_," Francis answered, catching Matthew drift on Arthur's encounter.

Alfred scratched the back of his neck, looking awkwardly at his friends. "Uh, guys, since you're speaking French and all, me and the dudes are going to join the ceremony, 'kay?" Alfred walked away, Yao and Ivan at his tail.

Francis nodded, looking back at the Canadian. "We should just get this over with, _non_? Then I'll have my chance with those beautiful women. I think one of them was French. Care to join me?"

Matthew only gave a small shrug, but Francis smiled. Matthew sighed, as he assumed the French man took it as a yes anyway. So together, they gathered into the crowd.

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><p><strong>Note: If you can't understand the French, just try to. *gets shot*<strong>

**Coming up: Athena's entry!**

**When: Undetermined.**

**Preview:**

_"Waaaah! FIRE!"_

**That's all I'm going to give for now~! Try to guess who said that line.**


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